hall,—­all who could gather there,—­and the rest on the lawn outside, to wish “Merry Chris’mas” to “de quality.”  The redemptioners in front, headed by Ivie and Jonas Tree, tho’ they had long served their terms, and with them old Harvey and his son; next the house blacks and the outside liveries, and then the oldest slaves from the quarters.  This line reached the door, which Scipio would throw open at “de quality’s” appearance, disclosing the rest of the field servants, in bright-coloured gowns, and the little negroes on the green.  Then Mr. Carvel would make them a little speech of thanks and of good-will, and white-haired Johnson of the senior quarters, who had been with my great-grandfather, would start the carol in a quaver.  How clear and sweet the melody of those negro voices comes back to me through the generations!  And the picture of the hall, loaded with holly and mistletoe even to the great arch that spanned it, with the generous bowls of egg-nog and punch on the mahogany by the wall!  And the ladies our guests, in cap and apron, joining in the swelling hymn; ay, and the men, too.  And then, after the breakfast of sweet ham and venison, and hot bread and sausage, made under Mrs. Willis, and tea and coffee and chocolate steaming in the silver, and ale for the gentlemen if they preferred, came the prayers and more carols in the big drawing-room.  And then music in the big house, or perhaps a ride afield to greet the neighbours, and fiddling and dancing in the two big quarters, Hank’s and Johnson’s, when the tables were cleared after the bountiful feast Mr. Carvel was wont to give them.  There was no stint, my dears,—­naught but good cheer and praising God in sheer happiness at Carvel Hall.

At night there was always a ball, sometimes at Wilmot House, sometimes at Colonel Lloyd’s or Mr. Bordley’s, and sometimes at Carvel Hall, for my grandfather dearly loved the company of the young.  He himself would lead off the minuet,—­save when once or twice his Excellency Governor Sharpe chanced to be present,—­and would draw his sword with the young gallants that the ladies might pass under.  And I have seen him join merrily in the country dances too, to the clapping of hands of the company.  That was before Dolly and I were let upon the floor.  We sat with the other children, our mammies at our sides, in the narrow gallery with the tiny rail that ran around the ball-room, where the sweet odour of the green myrtleberry candles mixed with that of the powder and perfume of the dancers.  And when the beauty of the evening was led out, Dolly would lean over the rail, and pout and smile by turns.  The mischievous little baggage could hardly wait for the conquering years to come.